The Trio Odyssey

Part I: Soul to Soul

Chapter 7: The Princess of Mixed Blood III

Raeké glances at each person inside the hall and notices that each States’ traditional dress codes are unique in their own way. 

Far to the front, she vaguely hears the conversation of the peer Royals around a little older than her age, sitting at the banquet tables of Tolem the South.

“So that’s Her Highness, Princess Raeké? The Princess of Mixed Blood?”

“Yes. Her Highness inherits too much power, from our bloodline, Ivadans, and our rivals, Cazdaeans.”

“Huh—seriously? That’s just too much.”

“Yeah—right?”

Raeké gives a comment in silence.

‘Hm—even I know that. Don’t they really have other topics?’

There is more gossip than just that, bringing her eyes to the right, next to the Dotemian banquet tables: the banquet tables of the Royals of Dumaja the West.

“Scrap their Cazdaean names; Raesha Issocelle Cazdae…, Raeké Issocelle Cazdae…, they really should’ve stayed at the Cazdae Empire for good.”

“Now that you think about that, I agree.”

Raeké’s frail heart is pierced by their sharp tongues, again, forcing her into an unwanted isolation inside the hall.

“Tsk—…”

‘So they really hate me…’

While that happens, she’s exasperated and in despair, muttering her grievance out reflexively as she downcasts her eyes. 

‘No way—why… Why do they hate me? I just want to befriend them…’

‘If Mom is here, will she help me make some friends? Because… I’m scared to meet them in person.’

‘Wait, did my personality change just now?’

‘Just now—that was… Raeké’s personality?’

And so, she stares at the banquet table in downcast for about a minute long, sighing.

‘What can I even do with it? I feel so far from home too. I don’t recognize this place as home after all, and I don’t even wanna admit it too—it’s all alienating.’

Unexpectedly, she catches a man’s voice nearby. 

“I believe you are… Raesha Issocelle Cazdae—the Queen Consort, isn’t that true?”

After overhearing her mother’s name, she slightly lifts her head and takes a peek into the man’s conversation.

The Queen Consort, Raesha, responds to the man after she’s finished talking to the other Queens next to her in a split second, turning her head over toward the man.

“Yes, sorry?”

Raeké feels relieved just from seeing and listening to her mother, instinctively distracting herself, avoiding her ears from taking in more critiques and ignoring the very existence of the other people inside the hall.

The Queen Consort gets vigorously shocked as soon as she’s caught up, eye to eye with a Reigning King; he’s standing close to the banquet table that the Queen sits, actually looking for her.

“Ah—Your Majesty, Hotavar.”

Without a single delay, the Queen Consort stands up from her seat, walking away from the banquet tables to personally meet the Reigning King of Dumaja the West, Hotavar Nan Lief.

The Queen Consort delivers a few words of greetings to His Majesty, Hotavar, once she reaches a comfortable distance to converse, away from the crowds of the tables, while putting her hands in clasp.

“How nice to see you.”

His Majesty celebrates the Queen Consort’s response with a nicely calmed face. 

“I really hope we can form a conclave. It’s our honor to invite you Ma’am.”

“What, a conclave? Why?”

Another man barges in from the back of His Majesty, Hotavar, while he walks closer to them.

“Your Majesty, Raesha, the conclave should be around 13ST, today.”

The Queen Consort faces the other man’s voice coming from the side, noticing that he’s also a Reigning King that she knows.

“Oh—Your Majesty, Jaw… 13 Sol-Togue? What brings this up so abruptly?”

The Reigning King of Galaa’ the Isthmus, Jaw Nan Hitra, replies to the Queen Consort with his lowered forearms slightly spread outward, and with a passionate look in his eyes. 

“Yes. We wish to discuss a few matters regarding the Princess of Mixed Blood—“

“Raeké Issocelle Cazdae.”

From all of the observations Raeké faintly made, her eyes spread widely with a sense of worry, sparking from the bottom of her heart.

She’s moving her lips, driven by that feeling in a whispering tone.

‘Hmm—? Something fishy is going on here, I don’t know why though…’

Raesha inhales long enough, maintaining her composure and recounting the words of His Majesty, Jaw, with a subtle irritation sitting deep inside her chest.

“Ah—So, the Princess, Raeké…”

Before this, the Queen Consort may agree with anything that comes up in the conclave.

But the moment she hears the involvement of her dearest, and only daughter, in the matter of the conclave, she becomes so hesitant and her words turn skeptical. 

“Sir, just what are you planning to do? The subject mustn't be the correct one, is it?”

His Majesty, Jaw, convinces the Queen Consort, giving words of relief. 

“Worry not, Ma’am. The conclave does not ever wish to harm Her Highness, Raeké.”

“That…”

The Queen Consort’s voice escalates to a harsher tone, fearing the plots of the Reigning Kings and going against them. 

“No, you shouldn’t involve Her Highness in any matter! ”

Raeké’s head revolves around the topic of the day, wondering about the situation she’s currently in. 

‘Wait—‘today’? If I’m transmigrated into the era of active royal powers, then I might’ve been in the past this whole time.’

‘The date— today…’

Raeké slams her palms aggressively onto the banquet table in an abrupt panic, shouting her throat out and slightly splashing the dilution of the cocktail of her dessert. 

“What date is it today?!”

Her voice breaks half of the chatters within the hall, halting their noises in the moment.

Now, almost everyone that hears Raeké sets their eyes on her, except her cold-blooded, half-sister, Kostana, who keeps on digging in her desserts.

Lisole speaks up about the unusual behavior of his half-sister with a confused look on his face. 

“What are you on about? It's the 31st of Eradisiae, 12,973MJ.”

Raeké is dumbfounded, while the air is stuck, locked under her throat and tiny sweats running down her cheeks.

Randar immediately comments right after Lisole.

“Raeké, you must’ve hit your head or something.”

Lisole satires on Raeké.

“That figures things out, right?”

Lisole and Randar giggles, trampling over Raeké’s strangeness as their laughing stock.

“Hahaha—”

“Hmhmhm—”

However, she remains silent with her befuddled thoughts that’s in her head, running afloat, and around intensely until her eyes see blurs.

‘Why—Why is my brain thinking it's 12,973rd Mor-Julaera right now? The Julaerar Year? The global calendar after the ascension of the Primordial Occultist, Demen Kishjae since the ancient era? And the 31st of Eradisiae?’

‘What does it even mean? But the year feels the same as Anno Domini…  And the month feels the same as November… What’s going on here?’

The chatters gradually rise back, but with way worse topics, emphasizing about Raeké.

Raeké screams in her head loudly, with a great loss of direction, thinking of any way to escape reality.

‘This can’t be… an alternative world!’

‘Hold on! If this is Earth post-apocalypse, maybe I do have the chance to travel back in time—if a time machine or some sort of magic exists, that is!’

‘But what if it’s not Earth, then how do I even get back home?’

Raeké presses her head hard to think about the memory she thinks she has, all the while until her head wires in the severe pain of loss from remembrance, giving a sensation that fogs her entire head and accidentally causing her temples to throb.

She murmurs as she puts her palms on her temples. 

‘Darn it—! I can’t recall anything…’

One thought reaches her that only makes her instantly react: her mother.

‘Then, Mom—Who really is she?’

She tries to gaze back into the conversation of her mother and the Reigning Kings.

‘Is she really my Mom? But she feels so biological to me—… Hugh—this can’t be!’

They’re already gone from her sight. 

“Huh—what?”

She breathes quickly for a moment, relaxing her body and sitting back down. 

About a few minutes later, she stares at the ever-illuminating, yellow chandelier of Dotem the East, tilting her face afloat.

In despair and bereft of hope, she speaks in whispers.

‘It’s quite boring isn’t it? Being here all the time…’

‘I guess, I’m just tired.’

She takes a look into the design of the chandelier, which consists of a beautiful, diverging spiral and has many mini, pendant-lights hanging across the bottom curves of the glasses, it suddenly triggers an unexpected and terrifying memory of hers.

“Huh—?!”

She falls into the sight of seeing a violent wave of flame tornado meandering across a city, engulfing the buildings into its maelstrom.

She subconsciously tenses the muscle around her eyes with fear, warping her eyes with her palms with a faint groan.

“Ugh—…”

She brings her head down, muttering her opinions about the sudden flashback.

‘Seriously, just what was that? My imagination? No… didn’t I see them at the coast? That was scary… one horrible moment for my eyes to catch.’

Gradually, she places her palms away and opens her eyes, facing down and staring at the banquet table.

‘Let me have my dessert or something.’

Out of the blue, the Representative of Harda the City Reserve, Zihro, steps up the Dotemian aisle, and goes straight to the front of the table that Raeké’s sitting on, with a friendly greeting as he walks upward.

“Good Morning, Your Highness, Princess Raeké!”

Raeké’s shoulder jumps as soon as she hears his voice, moving her eyes from her dessert to his eyes, while she’s feebly screaming.

“Hie—ek—it’s the Crown Prince!”

Raeké immediately covers her face with her shy demeanor. 

He slams his arm onto the table lightly, and curves his head to look straight into her eyes, with a smirk in his face and more splash coming out from her sundae glass. 

“You were looking into my eyes earlier, didn't you, little Raeké?”